Modern Fairy Tale Book One: After The Wedding Bells
by SolelySagittarius
Summary: Cinderella suspects her Charming husband is having an affair, Belle is trying to pull her man out of depression, Al is sick of Jasmine's bossy ways, Eric is jealous and Pocahontas is caught between an old spark and a new flame-and that's only half of the problems. Our beloved characters find out what relationships are really like after the I love you's and after the wedding bells.
1. Chapter 1

**Modern Fairy Tale Book One**

After The Wedding Bells

**Chapter One**

Snow White and Florian's Home

Friday Morning

Snow quietly hummed to herself while she moved about in the kitchen, broom clasped steadily between her slender hands as she concentrated on sweeping the Brazilian Cherry stained wood floors in her kitchen. She had already put away the dishes, washed off the countertops, and dusted the rugs. She wanted to vacuum but knew Florian would have a fit if she woke him up before dawn; he wasn't exactly a morning person like she was, or too fond of cleaning either. So she settled with her small set of morning chores.

Snow swept the small pile of dirt and dust into the dustpan, and dumped it into the waste bin. She placed the broom back into the kitchen closet and then waltzed her way over to the sink to wash her hands. She swayed her hips to an imaginary beat as she continue to hum an unknown song that swirled itself around in her dainty little head. She dried her hands on a dish towel, and then reached above the sink to draw the curtains back, tucking them neatly into their designated hooks. She smiled as she noticed a familiar baby blue jay perched on her window sill. The bird offered her a few high pitched chirps, fluttering its small wings at her presence as if it was greeting her.

Snow laughed softly, petting the top of the bird's head with her finger. "Good morning," she cooed. Beside her sat a small bowl of unsalted sunflower and pumpkin seeds. She placed it in front of her little friend who went into a fit of chirps and warbles. Again, Snow laughed. "You're welcome."

Snow then turned her attention to the clock that hung above the backdoor of the house. It was 6:45. Florian would be waking up soon and she hadn't even started on making his breakfast. Her humming grew louder as she started for the cabinets, pulling out flour, sugar, vanilla, spices, honey, mini chocolate chips, and coffee beans, Florian's favorite mug, and a set of china. She finally broke her initial silence as she dug for the big mixing bowl, waffle iron and muffin pan. She turned on the oven and placed the muffin pan in there, then proceeded over to the refrigerator to retrieve the carton of eggs and milk. Once she had all of her ingredients in front of her she traded her humming for her singing voice, breaking out into Nina Simone's classic song 'Feeling Good'. "Birds flyin' high, you know how I feel, sun in the sky, you know how I feel, breeze driftin by, you know how I feel…" she sang to an imaginary audience as she dumped her dry ingredient into the bowl, measuring them by eye like she had done this a dozen time before (she had).

"We all know how you feel honey," stated Florian dragging his sock clad feet into the kitchen. His brown hair sat in a matted halo atop his head, his boxer shorts hung loosely off his waist, and his bare chest displayed several small bite marks and faintly red hickeys. He walked over to his wife, wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his head into the crook of her neck, kissing it. "Good morning."

Snow ruffled her fingers in his hair. "Good morning. Did I wake you?"

Florian huffed and shook his head. "No, not really," he lifted up his head, peeking into the bowl that Snow was stirring a whisk in. "What are you making?"

"Almond chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs, and cheese popovers," Snow stated proudly, a smile creeping on her lips.

Florian grabbed his coffee mug along with the coffee beans and moved over to the coffee maker. He yawned and stretched his limbs for a long moment. Then he looked over at Snow who still had pins tucked all over her Raven hair, her red nightgown clung to her small hips and presented her amazing set of alabaster legs. His eyes traveled upwards to her perfectly defined derriere and slender back. He then watched her as she bent down to pick up the bottle of vanilla, her ample cleavage practically smiling at him. Florian grinned like a teenaged boy staring at his wife.

Snow picked up on his staring, eyeing him out the corner of her eye. She strategically scratched her left shoulder, allowing the strap of her nightgown to dangle off her shoulder. She glanced over at Florian with a mischievous grin before going back to stirring the waffle mixture. Once it was mixed well enough she dipped her finger in, scooping up a decent amount for her to taste. Her and Florian locked eyes as she licked the batter off her finger. "Mmm," she moaned to him. She then held out her finger. "Wanna taste?"

Florian abandoned his coffee returning to his wife, scooping her up into his arms. Snow giggled when he buried his face between the crevices of her bosom, motor boating her. She pulled his head away from her chest and kissed him deeply. His hands slid down to grab her behind, gripping it hard. She wrapped his arms around his neck, deepening their kiss. They stayed this way for a short while, until Florian pulled away before things got too far.

He pecked her one more time before setting her back onto the ground. "I-I have to get ready for work sweetheart," he was breathless, red in the face, yet no longer as sleepy.

Snow resumed her cooking, pouring the batter into the warm waffle iron. She batted her eyelashes at him. "Go ahead honey; your breakfast should be all ready when you come down."

Florian kissed her once more on the cheek and walked out of the kitchen, going up to their bathroom.

Snow was starting on the scrambled eggs when the phone rang. The only person who would be up at this hour was her best friend. Snow scurried over to the phone to answer it, "Good morning Cindy."

Cinderella mumbled into the phone. "Good morning Snow, how are you this morning?"

"Good. Good. How are you?" asked Snow stirring the eggs in the frying pan.

"I'm doing okay…" Cinderella paused a moment; Snow could hear the muffled sound of sniffles. "I'm sorry for calling you so early in the morning…I-I just wanted to be sure we were still meeting for drinks later."

Snow frowned noting her friend's unusual behavior. Like Snow, Cinderella was very chipper in the morning. In fact, she was rather chipper all the time, hence why she and Snow were the best of friends. She also picked up on the cracking in Cinderella's voice. Is she crying? "No, no, it's okay Cindy. Yes, we still are meeting up for drinks later at The Golden Flower," Snow popped bite sized pieces of cheddar cheese into the hot muffin pan, quickly filling it with popover batter. "Cindy…are you okay?"

Cinderella stifled a yelp behind her lips as she found her voice to speak. "Yes…yes Snow I'm okay. I'll see you later on this evening."

"Okay Cindy, see you later." Snow hung up the phone with great concern for her friend. Cindy sounded as if she was on the edge of having a breakdown which was odd because Cindy had a very comfortable life. Maybe things weren't as perfect as they seemed.

By 7:30, Snow and Florian were at the kitchen table fully dressed for work, eating the remnants of their breakfast. Florian gnawed on what was left of his cheese popover while skimming through the sports section of the newspaper. Snow causally sipped on her cranberry juice, her mind still on Cindy.

Florian noticed his wife's distant demeanor and sudden lack of cheerfulness. "What's with the face, Snow?"

Snow snapped out of her inner thoughts, returning to the kitchen table with her husband. She offered him a smug smile. "It's nothing"

"Doesn't really look like nothing to me," he pushed.

Snow sighed. She knew her husband wasn't going to leave the issue alone, so she might as well tell him. "I think something is wrong with Cindy."

"What do you mean?"

"When she called she sounded really upset. I think she was crying, even…I don't know maybe I'm over reacting," Snow sat her chin in the palms of her hands absent-mindedly running her finger around the brim of her cup.

Florian sat his paper down on the table, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. He went over and placed a kiss on Snow's cheek. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it's nothing too serious. Have a good day sweetheart."

"Bye honey," Snow said as she rose from her chair to get ready to leave herself, hoping that what Florian said was right.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Triton Beach

Friday Afternoon

The midafternoon summer air hung rigid in humidity as it engulfed every person who was brave enough to step beyond the front porches of their homes. The air swallowed each person into an increasing bubble of almost unbearable heat, leaving them gasping for breath and craving for a glass of ice cold water. Even in the shade, the heat still snuck in. It was hot everywhere! There wasn't a cloud in the sky to hide the sun's intense shine not even for a couple of seconds. No one was safe.

Unless, of course, everyone was at the beach.

People scattered across the grainy, beige colored sand either lying face down on their multicolored towels working on their tans, playing volleyball, or splashing around in the bright blue water without a care in the world. Triton Beach was incredibly lively for it to be only two o clock in the afternoon, and would remain that way until the heat finally died down some. Amongst the crowds of people were newlyweds Ariel and Eric, along with her six older sisters Attina, Aquata, Andrina, Aritsa, Adella, and Alana. They were currently in the midst of conjuring a Jet Ski race.

Attina, being the protective older sister that she is, was highly against it. "No, no, no, no, no. No! We are not having a race on those things. What if one of you gets hurt? What if one you of falls off and drown? What if—"

"What if you just shut up and get on the damn boat?" Andrina replied dryly as she mounted one of the jet skis sitting behind Alana.

Attina folded her arms in front of her chest not amused in the slightest by Andrina's quick wit, though she should be more than used to it by now. Eric laughed at her bland expression. "It'll be okay Tina; as long as we have on our life jackets we'll be fine."

"Yeah Tina," Arista teased. "Let us have some fun."

Attina huffed out an aggravated breath, giving in to her sisters as she always did. "Fine. Fine," she climbed onto the jet ski Aquata was occupying. "If one of you does end up getting hurt I don't want to hear about it later."

"Losers have to buy lunch," Ariel proclaimed locking her arms around Eric's waist.

The four sets up teams all lined up by the dock: Attina and Aquata, Andrina and Alana, Arista and Adella, and Ariel and Eric.

Ariel counted them down. "On your mark! Get set!—"

"No cheating!" warned Arista.

"Go!"

And they were off. Naturally Ariel and Eric took the lead while the others staggered a foot or two behind her. Although Andrina and Alana took last place due to Alana's dainty like driving.

"Oh my god Alana, can't you drive any faster? It's a race, a race, have you heard of them?!" Andrina fussed as she tried to take control of the handle bars causing the pair to swerve about like a snake.

Meanwhile Attina was gripping on to Aquata for dear life. "Aquata slow down! I think you're going too fast!" Aquata, not being the most graceful of her sisters, accidentally pressed down onto the gas instead of the breaks sending the both of them jutting out farther into the water screaming at the top of their lungs.

Arista and Adella were the only successful ones in being able to keep up with Ariel and Eric speed wise. They also performed a couple of daring jumps and leaps out of the water. When it was all said and done Ariel, Erica, Adella, and Arista were the winners of the race while Attina and Aquata followed up in second, and Alana and Andrina came up in dead last. As Alana and Andrina came up to the shore, Andrina gave Alana a hard shove. "Dammit Alana! If it weren't for your sissy driving, we could have won."

Alana rolled her eyes at her sister. "Stop being a sore loser Andrina, it wasn't that serious," she picked up her beach bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Just cough up your share for lunch."

The bunch headed towards Flounder's Snack Shack with Andrina and Alana arguing the entire way there. Ariel and Eric lagged behind, sneaking kisses and playful grabs here and there.

Ariel giggled into Eric's mouth. "Thanks for putting up with my sisters today. I know they can be a lot to handle sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Eric quipped. "Babe, they are six of them; they're a lot to handle all the time."

In response to his smart remark, Ariel gave him a playful shove. Eric shoved her back. This, in turn, is what started their shove-o-war. Each shove was harder and more forceful, sending them farther and farther apart from each other. Eric took it to another level by practically body slamming Ariel into the ground. Unable to withstand Eric's muscular build Ariel went stumbling backwards, crashing into an unsuspecting gentleman. He let out a rather guttural grunt as he fell on his back, catching Ariel in his arms, and unintentionally pressing her into his chest. His eyes remained closed as he struggled to retain his vision which was obscured due to Ariel's hair.

"Jesus Christ. You should come with a warning signal, Red," the man groaned into Ariel's head while he attempted to sit up.

Ariel went into panic mode, all while still lying on top of him. "I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry, are you okay? Are you hurt? Is anything broken?" Eric could be heard laughing in the background.

"I'd be a lot better if you just got off me," mumbled the man.

Eric lifted Ariel off of the young man while she pulled the guy up with her continuing with her rambling apologies. "I am so sorry, I didn't mean to you bump into you like that. I'm so clumsy, it was all my fault. I—"

"Ariel?" the guy asked her suddenly with a quizzical look on his face.

Ariel froze, as did Eric, both of them thinking the exact same thing. How does he know my name? Ariel looked at the guy again, studying him carefully. "Um…yes, that's my name. Have we met before?"

The guy chuckled, running his hand over the shave side of his head. "Uh, yeah. We lived next door to each other for ten years," he stated matter-of-factly becoming shy all of a sudden.

Ariel stared at him for a moment, silently observing him while trying to match his face to someone she knew. He wasn't the most muscular fellow but he wasn't skin and bones; his body type leaned more towards the slender side. He had an angular face with a pointy chin, he had a nice fair skinned complexion with a couple of visible scars scattered about, extremely thick brown eyebrows which somehow framed his blue eyes to perfection; his hair was shaved on both sides yet some remained on the very top parted in the middle with a rattail dangling in the back and his lips seemed to be permanently fixed into a smirk.

That smirk looked all too familiar…

Ariel's eyes widened a bit. No way, she thought breaking into a grin. "Jim?"

The guy laughed, nodding his head. "Mhm."

Again, Ariel tackled him—on purpose this time—wrapping her arms around his neck. He returned the gesture, picking her up in his arms, and spinning her around in circles. Ariel squealed and laughed in response, "Oh my god, I haven't seen you since the eighth grade!" she said once Jim placed her back onto the sand, "You look so grown up!"

"Me? Look at you," he spun her around like a tiny ballerina. "You're definitely not a little girl anymore."

Ariel blushed at the comment and unbeknownst to her, Eric noticed the faint pink tint of her cheeks. Eric stood to the side watching the pair as his suspicions along with his jealousy bubbled inside of him. These two seemed to be particularly close, real close. Through the duration of their relationship Ariel and Eric have broken up a few times, agreeing to date other people, and they were honest to each other about who they dated and when and how long. Eric knew about all of Ariel's flings, and Ariel knew all about Eric's flings. However, Ariel never mentioned a Jim and he was starting to see why.

Ariel turned to Eric, taking him by his forearm, ready to introduce him to Jim with pride, "Jim, this is my husband Eric. Babe, this is my friend Jim."

Like the good sport that he was, Jim extended his hand out towards Eric his smirk still playing around his lips. "Hey man, nice to meet you."

Eric eyed him warily, taking Jim's hand, and gripping him harder than necessary. "Nice to meet you too,"

Jim's smirk transformed into a nervous smile, attempting to remain polite. "Yeah, uh, well…how are your sisters doing Ariel?"

"They're great! They're all here actually; we're about get some lunch. Wanna come?" Before Jim could give her an answer, she was dragging both Jim and Eric, holding either of their hands, towards the tiny restaurant area where the rest of the girls sat at a large round table waiting for them. Eric wasn't too enthused about the extra company.

"Guys, look who I found!" Ariel announced as she approached the table, pushing Jim in front of her as if he was some sort of scientific specimen. Eric brushed past them and took his seat next to Arista, treating himself to a couple slices of pizza.

They all stared at Jim with a blank stare. Andrina was first to take a guess, "You…found a hot guy?"

Jim laughed. "Nice to know you're still boy crazy after all these years Annie,"

All of a sudden, as if they each had an epiphany all at once, the girls went bug-eyed and beamed with large grins. "Jim?!"

Once again, the reunion excitement repeated itself as each sister gave Jim a tight squeeze of a hug. They all oohed and ahhed over him, pinching and prying at his face, giving him compliments, telling him about how much they missed him and on and on and on of endless nonsense. Eric was really starting to get annoyed.

The rest of the afternoon was spent going down memory lane, stupid nicknames, and tons of laughter, none of which Eric was a part of. He learned that Jim was Ariel's childhood friend and that they spent every day together from the time they were four up until they were fourteen. He also learned that Jim used to have an enormous crush on Ariel. In fact, Ariel's father and Jim's mother used to tease that they would end up getting married one day, living happily ever after. This only furthered Eric's suspicion.

Noticing Eric's unusual attitude, she poked his leg under the table. "You alright?" she asked him so only he would hear.

Eric looked at her, seeing the genuine sincerity in her eye. He knew she loved him, just as much as he loved her. Maybe his jealousy was getting the best of him. Besides, she didn't seem to harbor any old romantic feelings towards Jim. They just shared a special friendship and were excited to see each other after such a long time. Nothing more.

Eric smiled at her, "Yeah," He leaned in to kiss her cheek. "I'm fine" At least he was until he glanced over at Jim who was gazing over at Ariel with big, doe, love struck eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The Golden Flower

Friday Night

The Golden Flower Club and Bar was the perfect mixture of elegant sophistication and uncouth rural. All the walls were painted burgundy with a variety of gold designs and trimmings, except for one which was all brick where the dozens upon dozens of different assorted bottles of alcohols sat on dark mahogany wooden racks. The bar, also dark mahogany, stretched fifteen feet long on one side of the club lined with chocolate brown wooden and leather armchairs. Round tables of Brazilian black granite lined the other side of the bar, giving customers the view of the city beyond the bay windows. Each table had identical high-back, red armchairs; mimicking the design of the chairs at the bar. The floors were a rich Brazilian walnut that led down to the large dance floor of the club, each side lined with a long, plush red couch and granite tables.

Snow sat at one of the tables by the window, taking slow sips from her glass of red wine. She had arrived fifteen minutes earlier than Cindy wanted her to just to give herself a moment of peace. Snow had been thinking about Cindy all day; her sad little voice played in her head over and over while she was at work. She hadn't heard Cindy sound so upset since her father passed away. Oh God, Snow thought, what if she's dying? Before she had to register the idea, Cinderella had walked into the bar. Spotting Snow she immediately made her way towards the table. Snow watched as Cindy settled herself into the chair. As usual, Cindy was perfectly put together. Her strawberry blonde hair sat gracefully upon her shoulders; her bangs dusted her eyebrows. She had decorated her gorgeous blue eyes with some eye shadow, mascara, and eye liner. Her typical pink lips donned a nice layer of gloss. She was dressed in a collared, white button-up blouse and a green floral skirt. Her small feet sat in a pair of simple ankle strap heels.

"Hi Cindy," Snow said almost in a whisper.

Cindy heaved out an exasperated sigh. She sounded so defeated without even speaking. She waved down the owner of the bar to place a drink order.

"Cindy! Snow! How you ladies doing?" Flynn greeted them once he reached their table. "What can I get for you?" He flashed his most dashing smile at them.

"May I please have four shots of whiskey Flynn?" Cindy muttered with her palms pressed to her forehead. Both Flynn and Snow were stunned by her answer. Cindy never drank anything heavier than wine or champagne. Cindy was a woman who loved drinks that were sweet and fruity, red and white, not brown and strong.

Flynn hesitated, but obliged to her order. "Sure thing Cin…coming right up"

When Flynn was out of earshot, Snow leaned in towards her distressed friend, placing her hand onto Cindy's. "Cindy, honey, what's going on?"

Flynn returned with her shots, setting them down in front of her. Without wasting another second, Cindy picked up a shot glass, and took it straight to the head. She grimaced at the harsh burning it left behind. Flynn and Snow glanced at each other before Flynn casually walked away. Cindy took a moment to recompose herself before she went into the details of what had her so distraught.

"I think Ferdinand may be having an affair," she stated in a hushed voice and then swallowed another one of her shots.

Snow's eyebrows went up. "What?" she hissed back, "When? With who? How do you know?"

Cindy started to tear up. Just the mere thought of her husband, the love of her life, cheating on her made it difficult for her to speak. Yet, she continued, "I think it started recently…with his assistant, Stephanie."

"What makes you think he's cheating on you?" Snow asked, unable to believe that Ferdinand, the most honest man she knew, could commit such a sin like adultery.

"He's always gone Snow. I never see him during the day, and if I do it's for half of a second before Stephanie whisks him away," Cindy took her third shot. "I swear she's doing it on purpose"

"Well the man is running for Mayor, Cindy. You've got to expect him to busy with trying to get his campaign together and such," Snow reasoned.

However, Cinderella seemed to disagree. "No Snow, you don't understand. Whenever I step into a room with them, Stephanie is always rushing my time with my husband. If we talk for two minutes, she gets all fussy. 'Time is of the essence Ferdinand, we mustn't be late'. Ugh, I want to knock her snooty English ass into the ground."

"Just because she's acting that way doesn't mean Ferdinand is cheating on you honey. That man loves you more than anything—"

"I know but," Cinderella's bottom lip quivered. "You don't see the way they interact with each other. They're always laughing together. They have so much in common. They both come from rich, privileged families, they have similar upbringings while I—I practically came from nothing."

Snow stared at her friend. Something wasn't making sense. Yes it was true that Cinderella and Ferdinand came from different backgrounds; however that didn't matter when they starting dating and it didn't matter after the fact either. So why does it matter now? "Cindy, what's really wrong? I know something else is bothering you other than this Stephanie."

Finally, Cinderella allowed her tears to run down her cheeks making her make-up smudge. "I think Ferdinand is getting bored with me…I haven't seen him look so happy until Stephanie came around," she dabbed her face with a napkin. "You should see the way he looks at her…he used to look at me like that."

Snow reached across the table to hold both of Cindy's hands. "And he still does," she reassured. "Cindy if you feel like Ferdinand is getting bored then ask him. Maybe he's not bored, maybe it's all in your head, maybe you're the one who's bored and if you are then spice things up! I'll help you." Snow offered a playful wink with her last statement.

Cindy appreciated her friend's advice, but it didn't settle the relentless feeling in her gut or the slow, shallow breaking of her heart.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Adam and Belle's House

Saturday Morning

Belle rolled over onto her side in the spacious king sized bed. She stretched her arms out beside her in a sleep induced state, reaching out for a big, strong, muscular arm to cling to. When her fingertips landed on the sheets, she frowned, just a bit. Determined she scooted herself further in the bed, still reaching for those muscular arms. Again, her actions were futile as she could not seem to reach what she was longing for. The side of the bed that was usually occupied by her husband was vacant.

Finally opening her eyes, Belle glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

3:37 A.M.

The sound from the TV in the living room flowed from downstairs along with hard, guttural snores. Sighing, Belle threw the blankets back wincing as her bare feet hit the cold floor. Half-awake Belle trekked her way to the living room ready to find a mess she was in no mood to clean at this ungodly hour. Her frowned deepened when she rounded the corner, coming face to face with what looked like a dumpsite. Beer bottles—some empty, some half full—sat astray all over the place: on the table, on the floor, stuck between the couch cushions, hiding in a plant pot. Glass plates with half eaten meals stacked in a pile on top of the side table. Used napkins decorated the arm of the chair. Bags of chips littered the carpet. Belle groaned inwardly, turning to go to the kitchen to get a garbage bag. How can one man make such a mess?

Garbage bag in hand, Belle silently moved around the room, careful not to wake the man sleeping on the couch. Every now and then she'd glance at him. His hair a matted nest of knots and tangles, his mouth wide open allowing his harsh alcoholic breath to fill the room, crumbs lining his growing beard, clothes all kinds of wrinkled and disheveled. He smelled of a strong must and cigar smoke. His face was dirty, grimy even, from only god knows what. He looked like a wild animal. He looked like a damn beast.

Finally rid of all the litter, Belle tied up the garbage bag and set it by the end of the couch. She then sat down beside the sleeping man, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. "Adam," she called to him. "Adam, honey, wake up."

Adam groaned in protest, feeling his hangover hit him harder than a truck. Almost growling Adam responded with, "What Belle?"

"Adam come to bed, you've been down here all day"

"I like being down here."

"Well…c-can I lay down here with you, then? It's a little lonely in our room without you up there."

Adam groaned becoming aggravated with both his headache and his wife. Why couldn't she just let him sleep in peace? That's all he wanted; a little peace and quiet. Was that too much to ask for? He managed to turn his head to look at her. She was smiling at him with such love and concern. He didn't know why though. He had lost everything he had worked for. He wasn't a man. He was a loser. He was nothing.

He was unemployed.

Belle started to make herself comfortable in his arms until he shoved her away almost making her fall on to the floor. "Adam—"

"Go back upstairs Belle," he snapped at her. "Leave me alone"

"Adam I just want us to be close…I miss you." Belle pleaded toying with the hem of her pajama shirt.

Adam rolled his eyes. "It's always about what you want. Y-you never ask me about what I-I want," his speech was slurred, fumbling over his words as he slouched further into the couch.

"Then tell me! Tell me what you want so I can help you!" Belle didn't mean to raise her voice at him, but she was tired of playing these games with Adam. She was trying to be the supportive wife; she was trying really, really hard actually, but her stubborn husband couldn't see past his own grief to notice. She wants to see him happy again; he needed to meet her halfway though.

Not appreciating her tone, Adam roared back at her. "I want my damn job back, can you do that?! Huh? Can you go down to the firm and order them to give me my damn job back?!" She didn't answer. "I didn't think so! Just take your ass back upstairs and go to bed, leave me alone!"

Adam didn't see, but he heard Belle whimper as she left the room. Her soft sobs fading down the hall, going back to their room. He hurt her feelings…again. He grumbled into his pillow, adding another reason to be angry to his ongoing list. Shoving his face into his pillow, Adam slipped back into his drunken slumber.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Jasmine and Aladdin's Apartment

Saturday Morning

Aladdin rolled his eyes for the fifth time that morning—and it wasn't even eight o clock yet. He had every intention of having a decent start to his day: a nice hot shower, a fresh shave, some comfortable clothes, and a big bowl of blueberry oatmeal. That's all he had asked for this morning.

Apparently, his girlfriend had thought otherwise.

"Would it kill you to clean up after yourself? For Christ's sake Al, a ten month old is cleaner than you," Jasmine continued with her nagging, entering the kitchen cradling Aladdin's pajama pants, t-shirt, boxer shorts, and socks in her arms.

Aladdin replied, "We don't worship Christ." He glanced up from his half empty bowl to see Jasmine glaring at him, her gorgeous hazel-brown eyes full of irritation and twitching just a bit. Her lips, her beautiful full lips, sat in a thin line across her face. Dainty, feminine hands curled into tight fists. He snickered; she was so cute when she was mad.

Jasmine exhaled deeply out of her nose in order to keep herself from cursing Aladdin out from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. "When you get back from practice today, you need to do your laundry," she demanded through gritted teeth.

Aladdin offered her a salute. "Aye aye, captain!"

"Aladdin I'm not joking! I'm sick of having to clean up after your mess—"

"Then don't," he interrupted her. "Leave my messes where they are and I'll clean them up myself."

"I can't do that! If I did the whole house would be a sty…Jafar never made me clean up after him"

Aladdin took that as his cue to leave. He was not about to ruin his day before it even got fully started by delving into what would be a very heated argument. As usual, he bit his tongue, swallowing down his pride with the rest of his breakfast. He rinsed out the bowl and placed it in the dishwasher. "See? I can clean up after myself," he kissed the top of her hair on his way to the door. "See you later"

"Don't forget what I said!" she yelled after him.

He ignored her. "Love you!"

"Love you too," she muttered; he didn't hear her. He was already outside.

"Run it again, guys! This needs to be tight!" Aladdin ordered in the large gymnasium speaking to the twelve other men in the room who were bent over at the waist, gripping their knees with their sweaty hands, taking a moment to catch their breath. Aladdin clapped his hands in manner that was meant to get their attention. "Come on guys, man up. Let's do this"

The men in the room slowly rolled their bodies upright, wandering back to their starting positions. Once in place, Al rewound the track he had momentarily paused on the stereo system and pressed play. "Watch your timing with the stunts and keep your lines straight. Everyone needs to be together," he reminded them. "Five. Six. Five, six, seven, and go!"

Aladdin watched the group with intense eyes, scanning for any flaws, mishaps, or mistakes. He bobbed his head in tune with the music counting the steps in his mind, faintly mimicking the moves with his body. A smile played at the corners of his mouth as he watched the young men dance. They all had such passion in their eyes, such determination, and such hunger. He remembers that look. He had that very same look when he would battle on the corners of his neighborhood, wanting so bad to win the respect from those around him. To make them realize that he was more than a trouble-making, thieving, worthless, street-rat. Aladdin may not have had much growing up, but he always had dance. He took it and ran with it, created a name for himself; especially after learning that his own father was the legendary Cassim. He made his own crew—the Ababwian Barbarians—dominated any and every crew that dared to challenge him, earning more respect (and more money) than he ever imagined. Over the years he managed to build an empire. He was one of the best choreographers in the country, a breakdance icon, and he wanted to keep it that way.

The music stopped. The boys all dropped into their b-boy pose with precision and perfection. Aladdin felt a swell of pride within his chest. These young men were the second generation, so to speak, of the Ababwian Barbarians. He expected a lot from them. They were a representation of everything he had work for. All the blood, sweat, tears, and sacrifices he pushed himself through. They were to portray nothing below greatness, excellence, and perfection.

And they never failed to do so.

Aladdin stood by the stereo, arms crossed over his chest, a large grin taking up much of the bottom half of his face. "Much better," he stated with a hint of amusement lacing his tone. "You just might win the competition next month"

"Might?" one of the guys spoke. "Man we gonna murder that competition. There'll be blood everywhere!" he stretched his arms wide, up, and over his head motioning in all directions of the room, indicating where this so-called blood would be.

Aladdin laughed. "Yeah, well, try to contain your murderous ways until then, okay? See you guys next week."

Once the gym was empty, Al turned the stereo back on. He went into simple stretching exercises before breaking into a freestyle in the middle of the floor, watching his reflection in the mirror. He was like a furious wind; fast and quick and steady and sharp, yet he was still light as a feather.

He may not have been Jafar, but he was something.

He was somebody.

He was him, and he was just fine with that.

He just wished Jasmine felt the same way.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Pocahontas' House

Saturday Morning (Still)

She stood before the morning sun, damp and chilly, watching the world around her come to life. Squirrels chased each other in the grass; blue jays soared high above the trees, the leaves of the sycamore tree danced in the brisk morning air. Her hands clutched to her towel tighter as the wind brushed against her copper skin. Her hair—long, dark, and lustrous—fell like a waterfall down her back, dripping beads of water onto the ground. She enjoyed moments like this; being alone. She found the silence of the forest soothing. It was the only time she felt she could be herself without having to ask permission. She could think, but most importantly she could listen.

"Pocahontas," a strong, stern voice came from behind her.

Pocahontas pulled herself away from her special place, turning to look at her boyfriend. She smiled faintly at him. "Good morning Kocoum."

"Good morning," he stepped out onto the patio draping a fleece robe over Pocahontas's shoulders. "What are you doing out here?"

"Thinking," she replied flatly.

"You couldn't think with your clothes on?" He chastised her, slipping her arms into the robe's sleeves, tying the sash tight around her waist. Taking hold of her forearm, Kococum led her back into the house. "Come on inside before someone sees you."

Pocahontas glanced over her shoulder at the spot where she once stood. She'd have to put off her moment of peace for another time.

Kocoum sat Pocahontas in one of the two chairs at the kitchen table. In front of her sat a multi-grain bagel with cream cheese, lox, and spinach leaves. She cocked an eyebrow up at him. "What's this?"

"Breakfast," he stated like he was so proud. "I made it myself."

Pocahontas looked back down at the poorly made sandwich. The bagel was burnt to a hard crisp, there was too much lox, not enough cream cheese, and spinach had begun to wilt. This looked nothing like the breakfasts that she'd make for him. Where was the pretty table setting? Where was the fresh squeezed orange juice? Where was the French toast and cup of fruit? Where was the time and effort in this sorry ass excuse for breakfast? The familiar feeling of disappointment washed over her as she nudged the plate away from her. "Thank you, but I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat something." He pushed the dish back towards her.

"I'm not hungry," she repeated.

Kocoum rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "You know most women would be happy that their boyfriend made them breakfast."

"It only took you two minutes to make."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." Pocahontas got up from the table, exiting the kitchen. She hated when he tried to control her or make her feel guilty. Between him and her father she was close to losing her mind. Why couldn't she just be and do what she wanted?

Pocahontas dressed in her running shorts and sports bra, slid her feet into her sneakers, and styled her long mane into a somewhat manageable ponytail. She couldn't stay in the house for another second—not while he was there at least.

"Where are you going now?" asked an irritated Kocoum, leaning on the door frame.

"For a run, I need some air."

"You were just outside."

"Well I need some more air," Pocahontas brushed past him taking long, brisk steps to the door. Kocoum called for her, but she ignored him. Once her feet hit the ground she took off running, disappearing into the trees. She quickly found a familiar dirt trail, using it as a guide while her long legs sprinted further and further into the woods at a dizzying pace. Her mind wandered just as fast.

Two years. Two years they've been together and for what? For whose benefit? Certainly not hers. Sure, Pocahontas cared for Kocoum, she cared for him deeply. However, he had a way of sucking the life out of anything and everything around him. Would rarely crack a smile; never broke out of his militant demeanor. He remained forever serious, cautious, ready to attack if need be. Everything was a potential danger to him. He didn't enjoy the adventures life had to offer, but she did. Their relationship felt more like an obligation if not anything else. Pocahontas's father had introduced them after returning home from a war overseas. He had spoken highly of Pocahontas to Kocoum and felt that the strong, brave, young general was exactly what his high-spirited daughter needed. According to her father, Kocoum could provide her with a more stable lifestyle. 'You are going to have to settle down one day' he told her.

But why with Kocoum? Why couldn't she pick whom she wanted to settle down with and when? Why did it have to be right now?

The muscles in Pocahontas's calves started to burn, but she hardly noticed. Her head was in a completely different place.

What bothered her most about Kocoum was that he always felt the need to protect her from everything. He was way beyond an overprotective boyfriend; smothering was more accurate. She wasn't some poor defenseless creature, she knew how to take care of herself, but he certainly didn't seem to think so.

No one did.

Finally reaching the edge of the cliff Pocahontas slowed her furious running. A few strands of her hair had come undone from her elastic band, framing around her face. She bent forward, resting her hands atop her knees, trying to cease her heart from beating out of her chest. This façade wasn't going to last. She didn't want to disappoint her father, but she didn't want to be dishonest either.

A strong wind from the river below caught her attention. She could hear voices out in the distance, shouting at one another. Enormous white sails floated in the sky like clouds while they carried the large, metal vessel into port.

"A boat," she whispered.

Meanwhile, a couple cities over, Mulan sat in a rocking chair in her daughter's nursery, cradling a crying infant in her arms, wondering when her husband was going to come back home.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The Li Household

Sunday Afternoon

Bleary-eyed and exhausted, body stiff and a little grimy, Mulan took careful steps as she dragged her body towards the bathroom. One hand held onto the wall for balance while the other lagged aimlessly by her side. Her now long black hair sat in a wild arrangement atop her head with a bit of it spilling over into her eyes, further hindering her vision. She couldn't remember the last time she slept. All of the days had blended together; time didn't really matter anymore. The only thing that mattered these days was the little bundle of joy—finally asleep—in the nursery down the hall.

Mulan ran the water in the sink, waiting for it to get warm. She took the rare opportunity to look at herself in the mirror. She grimaced at the sight. Dark circles framed the bottom of her dark brown eyes; her fair skin had become pale and dry, her lips so chapped she was sure to cut someone if she offered them a kiss, and she didn't even want to acknowledge her teeth, yellow as they were. Mulan huffed, cupping her hands under the water and splashing it in her face. She hummed to herself, relishing the warmth of the water against her neglected skin. How she longed for a nice hot shower, or even better, a long soak in the tub with her favorite orchid scented bubble bath and candles. She would wash her hair with her vanilla shampoo. Then she'd put on her cherry blossom body oil and wrap herself in her over-sized, over fluffy magenta bath robe and slippers. She sighed at the fantasy before drowning her face into another handful of warm water. This was probably the closest thing she'd get to a bath before he came back home.

After several minutes of soaking her face, Mulan walked out of the bathroom now heading to her bedroom. With the baby being asleep, the house had settled into an uncomfortable silence. The house had somehow turned into a mansion; it felt enormous without him there.

It always did.

How could someone be in a relationship and still feel so alone? Mulan didn't just feel alone she felt…abandoned. She knew Shang had to travel often for his work, but she had hoped that after they had gotten married that he would spend more time at home especially since they had Lotus to take care of. Yet, as always, Shang put his job before anything else. Even if he didn't mean to, he did and never seemed to think of how it would affect those around him. Shang was very traditional. Always has been, always will be. He probably thought that leaving Mulan three days after she gave birth was completely normal. He probably thought that Mulan could handle taking care of a newborn by herself. "You're a woman Mulan, you'll know what to do," he had told her once while in her third trimester, attempting to be reassuring. She scoffed. The nerve of him! Whether she did or didn't know what to do, that was not the problem. The fact that she had to do everything alone was. The pregnancy was hard enough with him not being for half of it, and now for him to be completely gone is frustrating as hell.

Mulan curled into a ball on her side of the bed. She glanced over at the empty space where Shang slept. She scowled, punching his pillow with the little strength she had. How could he just leave like that? She thought as she brought down her other fist. He's so selfish! Before she knew it Mulan went into a fit of rage, pounding her fists over and over into her absent husband's pillow. Tears poured down her face, dripping into her lap. In a last attempt to release the tension, Mulan stuffed her face into the pillow and screamed. Once. Twice. Three times, she screamed out her desperation. Then she sobbed, not knowing what else do to.

At that same moment, small whimpers sounded on the baby monitor. Lotus was waking from her nap. Mulan choked back more sobs, climbing back out of bed, going back towards the nursery. Lotus stirred in her crib with her eyes still shut; her beloved pacifier had popped out of her mouth. Mulan wiggled the rubber toy back into her daughter's mouth and picked her up out of her crib. Swallowing the remainder of her wails, she sat the two of them in the rocking chair by the window. Mulan soothed her baby girl, trying to shush her distressed murmuring, all the while wishing that someone was there so soothe her too.


	8. Author's Note

Author's Note:

Hello!

First, I want to thank my new readers for checking out my story and thank all of you for being so patient. I'm having a really hard time on the next chapter (it's about Tiana/Naveen and Rapunzel/Eugene). I'm trying to capture the characters without sounding too forced or too cheesy. So, hopefully by Monday I will have the next chapter uploaded. Also, I want to ask you guys how you would like to the future chapters to be. So far I've been doing one character at a time, would you like to see multiple characters in one chapter? Oh, and does it bother anyone that I put the days of the week in the chapters. I know I use it to I can keep track of things, but what do you think?

Again, thanks for reading and your patience. Spread the word, and pass the story on to your friends.


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